


Keys

by Solziv



Series: Batjokes [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batjokes, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Liberace Joker, Male Friendship, Piano, Reformed, Reformed Joker, Romantic Fluff, Sad, Sad Bruce, Sad Joker, Suggested Batjokes, Suggested Pairing, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 15:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9663755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solziv/pseuds/Solziv
Summary: Bruce had no idea Joker played piano. Then again, he never asked. One-shot.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Liberace Murder Clown](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/263948) by melody1987. 



> This story came into my head quite suddenly.
> 
> I wrote most of this in the space of a couple of hours. I LOVE it when that happens!

Voyeur. A perhaps crude word, but Bruce lacked another definition. It wasn’t a woman stripping in her bedroom with the curtains drawn, whilst he observed from afar, but the sensation felt the same.

_I shouldn’t be doing this, intruding on his privacy._

Clearly the clown retreated to get away from everyone else currently crowding Wayne Manor (namely the quartet he aptly named the Rowdy Robins) and distract both heart and mind with the musical instrument stood at the far end of the room – a baby grand piano.

Such behaviour shouldn’t have been surprising. Over the past few months of inhabiting the place, Joker often vacated areas and merely vanished. It always took Wayne at least half an hour to locate the former; each time, in a different area.

Today, it appeared the green-haired male wished to be in the old music room, choosing to seat himself on the elongated, black leather stool before the piano. When those long and slender white fingers traced the keys, finding nostalgic comfort in their shape and texture, before pressing lightly and filling the space with much-needed sound, Bruce honestly expected a racket that befitted the erratic, twisted mind of a man such as the Joker.

But the Dark Knight was wrong.

The sombre lilt emerging from the instrument sent the loveliest of chills cascading down his spine, soon accompanied by the tightening of his chest. Then he had gazed upon the clown’s expression; one of a man utterly absorbed in his creation, lips parted and eyes closed. Wayne was fascinated that the former rogue didn’t need to study the keys to play with such fluidity and virtuosity.

It was almost as if observing a wild animal – fascinated by the creature before him and desperate to approach, although worried about disturbing it. The analogy almost made Bruce chuckle aloud; a wild animal seemed very apt when referring to the Joker. The latter may have been reformed, but it was akin to taming a lion. Wayne still needed to tread carefully – as did the others. As it was, he refused to leave the clown and Jason in the same room, without supervision.

Joker appeared completely captivated in playing and hadn’t noticed his audience – at least, not until the observer was only a few feet away. The Dark Knight’s subconscious hadn’t been able to help itself, and dragged him from his spot – into the “lion’s den”, as it were.

The rogue must have felt or head the noise, because he suddenly held his finger on a single key, allowing the note to linger, before daintily swivelling on the spot to face Bruce. Tension was apparent in his countenance, although it quickly turned neutral, upon realising the identity of his admirer. Truth be told, it bothered him to be listened to, especially without his knowledge and consent. Playing the piano had always been an activity for his ears only.

And yet…it _was_ Bruce. Joker couldn’t berate the ebony-haired figure, a lifelong-yet-former rival, for choosing to admire such fingering.

There was a pun in that last thought, but the moment didn’t feel right. As he had stressed countless times before, being a good comedian was all about timing. That, and he still felt caught up in the sensation of touching the magnificent musical instrument.

“I never knew you played,” Bruce finally said, his tenor notably softer – nothing harsh or threatening this time. Both men supposed that was progress for their awkward relationship.

The edge of the clown’s lips quirked, and he chose the evasive approaching, knowing all too well it would bother his custodian. “You never asked.”

As expected, Wayne frowned at the non-answer, although was defeated by its truth. In the numerous years as Batman, he never bothered to truly get to know these little titbits. It had always been about stopping Joker from hurting people and understanding the method to the man’s madness. Now that the latter was “retired”, it left an opportunity to wipe off the make-up and see the person underneath; the sadness beneath the smile.

The rogue’s current expression was hardly one of reckless enjoyment – more solemn spirituality. It was so startlingly different to his usual demeanour that Wayne felt unable to offer comfort, instead changing the subject and turning his attention to the piano.

“I haven’t touched it since…” his voice trailed off, mind wondering why he considered _that_ a less difficult topic of discussion. There wasn’t a way to end that sentence, and he didn’t want to. Fortunately, Joker wasn’t one to pry into the Dark Knight’s past – a relieving idiosyncrasy – instead choosing to focus on the baby grand, ghosting a finger along the top and staring intently at its polished black finish. Although it hadn’t been used for years, Alfred still kept the room and its contents spotlessly clean.

“A beautiful instrument shouldn’t go to waste.” There was a suggestive note in the clown’s tenor that had Bruce thinking twice about its meaning. “Don’t you agree?”

Offering a restrained nod, not fully committing himself, the billionaire moved on, before he left himself wide open to further innuendo. “Why now?”

“I was simply in the mood. My dear, you should you know by now that most of my antics are done on a whim!”

Wayne almost smiled. He knew that far too well – perhaps better than he should. He glanced at the chalk-white figure, wondering if the chips should be left to fall where they may. It was possible to be near the man without having to keep an eye on his back. _Progress._ It made things almost… _pleasant_.

He let out the breath he was holding and allowed himself to relax, then said, in a teasing tenor, “So, now that I’ve figured out your secret, you won’t keep playing?”

Joker studied those blue optics, reading the meaning behind such words and immediately understanding. He turned around on the seat, shifting his body slightly to the left to allow his admirer to sit beside him, then began playing once more.

And, when it felt right, Bruce added his own hands to the keys.


End file.
